


Plans

by 4ce_in_sp4ce



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, POV Arthur, Post-Canon, Stream of Consciousness-ish, looking back and reminiscing, sort of a character study?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:27:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26819548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4ce_in_sp4ce/pseuds/4ce_in_sp4ce
Summary: Arthur was a planner. He had plans and contingency plans and contingenciesforhis contingencies. It was his job. But he'd never really thought much about the future because the nature of working in extraction meant that, outside of the next job, there wasn't much of a future to plan for.And then he’d run into Eames.
Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 60





	Plans

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [arthureamesmonth's setting prompt for the "across space & time" theme](https://arthureamesmonth.tumblr.com/post/630989837147815936/this-weeks-theme-is-across-space-and-time)

Arthur was a planner. He had plans and contingency plans and contingencies _for_ his contingencies. It was his job. He was the point man, the researcher, the one who figured out who and what they were up against on a job. And that spread into his personal life too. He knew what safehouse options he had in every city he worked in and always had at least three ways of getting out of whatever country he was currently in, with multiple names and identities he could switch to if need be. It was his job to be prepared for things and he had taken that role to heart.

Despite that, he'd never really thought much about the future. His plans involved getting out of places or disappearing or getting a job done. They were detailed and meticulous, but they stopped as soon as whatever threat they were designed to deal with was gone. Anything beyond the immediate future had never been a concern for him. When he finished a job, he'd find another one. When he left a city, he'd travel to the next one. It didn't matter where. And if it _did_ , he'd usually already taken that into account before he left. Extraction was simply going from job to job and, like most criminal careers, most people didn't leave the field willingly or pleasantly. Extractors didn't retire. They didn't settle down. They worked until they died or a vengeful ex-client or former mark caught up with them or they simply stopped being able to get jobs. It was a violent field full of violent people meeting violent ends. Arthur knew that. He'd known it ever since he'd started. So he'd never thought much about the future because, outside of the next job, there was no future to plan for.

And then he’d run into Eames. The Fischer job certainly hadn’t been the first time they’d worked together; the dream sharing world was a relatively small one, and they’d worked together on jobs on and off since Arthur had first joined the field. He'd sauntered back into Arthur's life on the Fischer job with the same smile and confidence that Arthur had always found equal parts insufferable and annoyingly attractive, except this time attractive managed to win out over insufferable. Bickering had turned to banter had turned to flirting, and Arthur had woken up in Eames' bed several times over the course of the job. It'd been nice. Fun. And he'd assumed it would end when they landed in LA. Relationships, much like future plans, simply didn't work with the realities of being an extractor. 

But then Eames had said his next job still needed a point man and Arthur had agreed because it sounded easy and easy was what he wanted after the shit show that had been inception. And if it meant he got to continue waking up in Eames' bed for a few more weeks, well, that was a plus too. It'd been a while since he'd had a fling that was more than a one night stand or two, and sleeping with Eames was, admittedly, quite enjoyable. Certainly far from the worst option he had. 

Parting ways when the job had ended had been…harder than he'd expected. Sadder. He'd pushed the feeling down, ignoring it. It wasn’t as though there had actually been something to be sad over. And when a job a few months later had called for a forger he'd told himself he was only reaching out to Eames because, as annoying as he could be sometimes, he _was_ good at what he did. And the happiness he'd felt when Eames agreed to join the team was just because it would make the job easier. That was all. 

He'd ended up in Eames' hotel room the first night after he'd arrived, pleasantly surprised to find that Eames still remembered exactly what he liked, what made him grip the sheets tightly and gasp Eames' name quietly. And when Eames had whispered that he'd missed this, missed _him_ , Arthur had whispered the words back. It wasn't until later, when he was drifting off to sleep with Eames' arm around his waist, that he'd realized he'd meant them. The realization had startled him and he’d pushed it aside, trying not to think about what it might mean. It didn’t mean anything. This was just a fling after all. Nothing more. 

Arthur wasn't exactly sure when it had stopped being a fling and started being something more. Maybe it was when they started meeting up outside of jobs. Or when Arthur had realized he didn't just miss the sex, he missed how Eames teased him and matched his sarcasm and watched him with a soft expression when he thought Arthur wasn’t looking. Or when Eames had kissed him gently in the rain and asked him if he wanted to stay in Budapest a little longer even though the job was done. Or maybe it had been all the way back on that third job when Arthur had admitted he’d missed Eames, even if he hadn’t wanted to admit what the implications of that meant. He didn’t know, and he doubted Eames did either. The truth of it was there probably wasn’t any one thing that had signaled the shift; there was no single event that had changed things, no set date or anniversary for them to celebrate. He’d simply woken up one day and realized that he was truly and fully in love with the man next to him, and had been for a while. It had felt natural and obvious, like when the last pieces of a puzzle finally fit into place and the solution that had taken so long to find suddenly seemed so simple and easy to see.

Arthur reached across the pillow and brushed Eames’ hair out of his face as he slept. It had been well over a decade since the Fischer job, and the years were starting to show. The lines in Eames’ face were deeper now and Arthur could see the grey starting to come in around his temples. Not that Arthur was doing much better himself; he’d had a small but solid streak of white in his hair for a few years now. Eames’ insistence that it made him look distinguished and elegant never failed to make him smile, even if he thought it simply made him look old. Eames’ opinion was the only one that mattered to him anyways. They’d long since become a package deal on jobs, a point man and a forger, never one without the other. It’d been years since Arthur had worked a job without Eames and he wouldn’t be surprised if he never did again. He _hoped_ he never did again. Eames had become such a natural part of his life, of _him_ , that working without him would be like working without an arm. He moved closer, nestling against Eames’ chest. Even after all their years together Arthur still marveled at how easily he fit against Eames, like he’d been meant to be held between Eames’ arms. Maybe he had been. And even if he hadn’t, he knew he belonged there regardless. 

Arthur had never really thought much about the future and, to be honest, he still didn’t. He had his plans and contingencies as always but he didn’t know what would happen when this job finished or where they would go. But he didn’t care. Not really. Because while he may not know the specifics he knew that whatever happened, wherever he ended up, Eames would be beside him. And that, in the end, was the only thing that mattered.


End file.
